Unexpected
by Mayonaka no Ame
Summary: "This. This whole 'living happily ever after' thing...I told you. I told you that I wasn't normal, that WE couldn't ever be normal. You said you didn't care. You're a liar!"
1. Part I Bombshell, Outburst, Epiphany

"_No one is so brave that he is not disturbed by something unexpected."_

**- Julius Caesar**

-| **Unexpected **|-

PART I

**I. Bombshell **

It was expected that she would be upset.

Anyone would be.

After all, this was the second time in the span of a week it had happened. Mako heard everything go down live on the radio broadcast, teeth gritted as he scoured his dinner plate to the point of removing its ceramic polish.

He was trying not to worry about it.

He was failing at trying not to worry about it.

About her.

This relatively new political spotlight had become the worst sort of distraction, uneasy as he was with her being simply _out there_. That she was e_xposed; _vulnerable and inflamed under such a harsh, unflattering glare. Especially on this occasion, after she insisted he go home and, most importantly, stay put for the remainder of the press conference. You punch one too many smart-mouthed reporters in the jaw and such orders were inevitable.

He didn't regret doing it. It was as much in his nature to be protective as it was hers to get annoyed at being protected.

And so here he lingered, outwardly cool-under-fire as he washed dish after dreary dish as Korra took hit after low-blow hit from the world media. He had never felt such impotence in his short yet luckless life.

People could be cruel in general. But desperate people were the absolute cruelest.

"_Why haven't you-"_

"_Why didn't-"_

"_How could you let-"_

"_What is __**wrong**__ with-"_

He cringed as she stammered through her practiced but purposely vague answers. The problems were being acknowledged (one couldn't exactly avoid them). They were being analyzed (but far from understood). It was being dealt with (she was trying to at least). She was doing everything in her power.

It was all they could ask of her.

_It wasn't_, they argued back.

Patience was a currency no one had in stock anymore.

Even through the intangible radio waves, Mako could sense the crowd's mounting exasperation. She was the Avatar. She should be able to magically wave her hands and fix everything. It was her idleness that allowed things to fester to this point. It was her lack of a sense of priority.

Everything was all her fault. Who else's could it be?

With the first of the expected 'boos' came the equally predictable splatterings of moist ammunition. There was no lack of rotting produce in Republic City and if it couldn't be used for nourish, it could at least be used to embolden. The people were nothing if not thrifty in these trying times. The microphones fizzled and screeched as the putrid juices soaked in. And just like that, the conference was over.

Mako shut the radio off with a flick of his finger and took a deep, calming breath.

She would be on her way home soon and he had chores he promised to finish. No sense in adding to her certain fury.

It seemed like mere seconds later that a slammed door echoed throughout their home, prompting Mako to abandon the mug he was drying into the abyss of soapy water which had long since grown cold.

She may need him.

Now.

_Finally_.

"Korra?" He practically flew out of the kitchen, tripping on the same frayed carpet edge that always caught his toes before rounding the corner. "Korra, I hear-" He skidded to a stop directly in front of a single, raised finger, preemptively positioned at the exact height of his lips.

He had no choice but to acknowledge the silent command, stepping back as she marched forward and let her ruined coat drop to the floor behind her. The stench of the garment was overpowering. Like a week-old hotpot of overripe peaches, fish entrails and onion. It took all of Mako's willpower not to retch.

Korra however, having been marinating in the vile odour for who knows how long, could no longer avoid it.

He waited a few tense minutes, until just after her heaving had morphed into the odd spit or cough, before daring to ease open the bathroom door. For the second time that week, he knelt beside his lover's trembling form which was practically wrapped around the toilet bowl and attempted to give some semblance of comfort.

"It'll be okay," he whispered, rubbing delicate circles into her back with one hand while the other picked wisps of what appeared to be slimy cabbage from her hair. "Soon. It'll be okay."

From beyond the edge of the lid, he thought he saw her nod. At least, he hoped it was a nod. There was no time to confirm for she was throwing up again. It broke his heart to realize - to know - that it wasn't entirely a physical reaction.

**II. Outburst **

"I'm _FINE!"_ Korra stated for what was probably the twenty-second time to the eighth person she ran into on Air Temple Island.

It had taken days of begging from her Council colleagues, friends and family to get her to accept this day off and now almost everyone and their pet were harassing her to take more. Their unwarranted concerns were more exhausting than the duties themselves. "I'm eating and I'm sleeping far more than most citizens of Republic City nowadays. So I don't know why you're all on my case."

It was a blatant lie, but only Mako could have proved otherwise. He swallowed the rebuttal along with a gulp of his still-too-hot tea, much preferring a burnt tongue over yet another fruitless screaming match. His throat was still raw from the one a few hours previously when he caught her calling her equally overworked secretary before dawn had even broken.

"So, if you're as 'FINE' as you say you are" prodded the relentless Pema, easily challenging her bluff "then why don't we start planning the wedding again, huh? The length of your engagement must be nearing record absurdity by now."

As if on cue, Mako's face fell into a grimace at the same time as Korra's eyes rolled toward the ceiling.

This was an old argument for them.

Just as the subject of her work had become trigger to his vexation, the wedding had become hers. It had been a full eight years since they bought the crumbling townhouse together and first discussed getting married. Back at the tender age of eighteen when the future looked so bright and shiny, reflected in the ocean of her eyes. Six years since they had moved in together and made the engagement official. Three years since the very subject started to give her headaches, also not-so-coincidently around the time when the city took a turn for the worst. He had long since decided to let it go, coasting on faith that one day - one day soon - a smiling Korra (how long had it been since she smiled?) would pull out the stack of cake tasting pamphlets (her favorite part of the whole wedding process) that she had oh-so-eagerly collected the night he put that humble ring on her finger and they'd begin anew.

Those pamphlets were now buried in the hallway drawer under layers of old bills, take-out menus and dust. More than half were probably out of business by now anyway.

Six years was a long time. Six years of a recession, even longer.

"Pema…" The name was practically growled by the Avatar as she rubbed at her temples, inspiring the subject's playful smirk to falter. "This is none of your business. We'll get married when we damn well feel like it. So butt out!"

She was out of her chair and through the door before the Air Temple mistress could find her voice to apologize. She could only stare after her, mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a beached cat-fish, completely at a loss as to why it hurt to breathe.

"It's okay." Instinctively, Mako reached forward to cover the older woman's hand with his own from across the table. It seemed his primary purpose nowadays was to act as a one-man cleanup crew behind hurricane Korra, scrambling to restore her personal relationships as they crumbled like dry bread in the wake of her fiery temper. "We both know you didn't mean any offense. She's just been…" he let the sentence trail off, not sure if there existed a word to complete it.

After swallowing down her shock, Pema managed to flash a sincere but still shaky smile. "No, no. She's right. It is none of my business."

"If it's any consolation; it is _my_ business and I still get the exact same reaction." They both chuckled at that, even though it wasn't at all funny. Sometimes you had to laugh when bursting into tears wouldn't be appropriate.

"We heard about the press conferences this week. It no surprise that she-"

"She's been like this for months," Mako interjected with a firm stare. If there was one leniency he wouldn't allow his fiancée, it was pity. She hated pity. They both did. "She won't stop until Republic City is back on its feet."

"This recession was inevitable after the revolution and all those natural disasters. It's just going to take time for things to re-balance. She knows that, right? You've told her?"

He nodded. "She knows. It doesn't change anything. She's been convinced it's her fault. Anyone would after being told so on a daily basis for years."

"But…can't you…she can always…" Pema cut herself off with a deep sigh, too tired to even attempt going through the worn list of options. As a mother of four and manager of this large, self-sufficient estate, she had her own set of troubles to deal with. So she fell back into her chair and sipped her tea, relishing the rare quiet. "At least she has you," she concluded in a whisper. "At least she'll always have you."

"Yeah." Of that, there was no doubt in anyone's mind for some reason. "Always."

If they only knew of the nights - the more and more frequent nights - when he swore he couldn't take it anymore.

Mako cringed, abruptly overwhelmed by a heart-crushing wave of guilt.

"Please excuse me."

**III. Epiphany **

He found her at the meditation pavilion. Her legs were crossed, fists lightly touching above her stomach, lips and shoulders loosened, as still as a stone. An outsider could have been fooled. But Mako had lived with her long enough to tell the difference. Her spine was too straight, fists clenched too tightly and the most telling sign of all was the sheen of liquid beneath her dark lashes, sparkling in the twilight.

He made a seat for himself beside her and waited, enjoying the warm remnants of the sun on his cheeks. If he forced himself to forget for a moment the reason they were there, he could almost bring himself to be feel peaceful again. After all, back when they lived on the island together, before she had joined the Council and become the fully realized Avatar and basically loaded her shoulders with more responsibility that any one personal could handle without going insane, they used to have nothing better to do than simply enjoy the sunset most evenings. Once or twice (or more), they had even ended up doing things that would surely cause Tenzin to retroactively ground them for life should he ever find out.

A slow, salacious smile found its way onto his lips at the memory. He had accused her of being crazy when her mouth began its assault and her fingers deftly undid the red fastenings of his coat. Yet he made no move to stop her despite being not only in public, but on what was considered a holy site. He remembered feeling the curve of her smile against his jaw. "That's why you love me," she had said.

She was right.

"I'm sorry." Korra surrendered first; a rarity in of itself. But what really captured his attention were the glistening tear tracks marring her otherwise serene expression.

It may have been years since he'd seen her smile – _genuinely _smile – but it had been an equally long time since he had seen her cry - _really_ cry. Sure, the odd droplet would escape when she was especially frustrated, at the climaxes of their yelling fits or when her secretary delivered yet another dire statistic. But not like this.

"I-I don't know what's wrong with me." Pretense abandoned, she let her fists fall into her lap and her back hunched over, finally submitting to the exhaustion that he knew must be permeating every bone in her body. "I could handle it. For years, I _was_ handling it." She wasn't. But he helped maintain the illusion for pride's sake; one of the most vital and yet unstable parts of her character. "And then…then the conferences and... Spirits, how they _hate _me Mako. They all really, **really** hate me. And I'm _killing _myself and-and everyone still just…"

"I know," he interrupted, quickly reaching out and threading his fingers into the hair at the base of her neck. She wore it loose nowadays, if only because she lacked the time and energy to place her traditional wraps every morning like she used to.

How he loved her hair loose. How he loved her when she was natural - in her elements. Calm and happy. Naked and silly. How he loved her now, even in this despairing moment; damaged and barely keeping it together.

How he loved her. No matter what.

Soothed by this insight, Mako pulled forward until their foreheads touched.

He listened to all her silent, usual excuses, holding steady as quivering fingers crawled up his forearms like morning glories before finding their place to spread - to bloom - upon his shoulders. She rationed his sunlight and choose to only absorb it, to reach for it, during dark hours such as this one. She craved him and clung to him and _needed _him.

He was her anchor. It was a burden he readily accepted.

They both knew the world wouldn't stop taking and she wouldn't stop giving as long as there was anything to relinquish. He knew that she didn't want to participate in something as frivolous as a wedding while the whole world was in such shambles, desperately clawing at her heels for help, dragging her down as she fought to simply keep her head above water.

On the day they got married, they both wanted to feel unburdened. She could only give herself to him once she was free, once she could promise that being his spouse, his companion, mother to his children and all those other "wifey" things could be at least near the top of her priority list.

It was a day that would probably never come.

Mako realized that now. But he also knew that he didn't care. If this was all she could offer, it was enough.

"You have me," he promised softly, inspiring a strangled sob to escape her throat. He tightened his hold. "You'll always, always have me."

They didn't need the fanfare of wedding vows. This was a promise he knew he would keep forever.

**IV. Revelation **

Mako had meant every word.

He had expected nothing to change, really.

Korra would work nearly eighteen hours a day, seven days a week and he made himself available to prepare her meals or tuck her into bed when the limitations of the human body forced her to slow down. He'd be ready and eager to make love during those times she needed to vent steam or simply feel desired as Korra the woman and not the Avatar. She would attend publicity and fundraising events and he would act as her escort to keep her calm and safe. Sometimes, more and more frequently, she would become overwhelmed, make herself physically ill with worry and stress, and he would be there with a glass of water, ready to clean up and carry her to next task if she so desired.

He had resigned himself to that being enough. That Korra in any way, shape or form was his future, his home, his _everything_. However, he did feel the need to take a stand after she lost consciousness in the middle of a speech to the United Republic Farmer's association. For the first time ever, she conceded to seeing a doctor with minimal argument. Most likely she assumed she could get some training material on how to function with less sleep.

Later that day, Mako was startled awake by the now recurrent sound of the front door slamming shut.

"Korra?" he called as he removed the book from his chest and made to sit up. A quick glance at the mantel clock revealed it to be only five in the afternoon. She hadn't set foot in the house before sunset in months, so he had grown accustomed to napping after his shift at the police station before preparing dinner at eight. "Korra, is that you?"

The only answer was what sounded like a battle cry followed by a crash. It was enough to get Mako scrambling to his feet.

After all, she had been on the brink of losing it many times before this. Today could very well be the day.

He found her on her knees digging through their bedroom closet, clad only in a loose robe and with most of their dresser contents thrown about the floor. If that alone were not worrisome enough behavior, he also noted the pills scattered over their bedspread; white contrasting with the dark crimson of their comforter.

"…What are you doing?"

Korra ignored the question, completely and intensely focused on her task, so he took the opportunity to approach the bed and examine its new decoration. The pills looked harmless enough; thick and grainy like the vitamins Toza made him take when he first began training but annoyingly lacking in markings to help diagnose this fit.

"Korra?" Her only response was to growl before tossing a boot over her shoulder that nearly smashed in his nose. That was when he got especially worried. "Hey. Korra. Talk to me!"

He placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping it would calm her down, hoping it would make her see sense, but she violently shrugged herself out of his grasp.

"Don't touch me," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Don't _ever_ touch me again."

"Korra…" Dark brows knitted together above watery, golden eyes. In all of their arguments, in all the times she had screamed and slammed doors and thrown things, never had she sounded so…vicious. "What did I-"

"You know what you did." Apparently finding her target, she yanked what appeared to be a stack of folded furs out from the very back of the closet. "But I can't do this. I told you I couldn't, that I never wanted to."

"Never wanted to what?" He couldn't help but inquire.

"This! This whole 'living happily ever after' thing. I told you. I told you that I wasn't normal, that WE couldn't ever be normal. You said you didn't care. You're a liar!"

Whatever retort he could have come up with got stuck behind his teeth at such a poignant accusation. He worried, just for a moment, that maybe her Avatar abilities had developed to allow her to read minds. Maybe she had seen the bitterness in his eyes after he tossed away those wedding bakery pamphlets last week. Maybe the pangs he experienced whenever a small child scampered past their front window had been profound enough to send a shock through her chi paths as well. Maybe, more simply, she had found the reservation receipts for wishful-thinking holidays that never had a chance of happening.

So he was a liar. In some respects. He denied wanting more in the future in exchange for being content now. Was that really so evil? Was that really so _surprising_?

"I...I've never pressured you," Mako tried as a lame form of defense. "We've been happy. Haven't we?"

Korra wasn't listening. She had already unrolled the furs and started layering garments between them. All her original possessions from when she first came to the city from the South Pole.

She was going home.

Mako felt his heart drop into the soles of his feet.

"So that's it? You're just gonna run away?" he asked in a tone that was frustratingly more broken than furious. "Just like that?"

"I'm not running away. I'm going to get a second opinion. Katara will know."

"Katara will know what?"

"How on earth you got me pregnant."

From his feet, that fickle organ shot back up all the way into his throat this time so that Mako found himself struggling to breathe. If Korra noticed, she made no sign of it. She continued packing as if her announcement included nothing more astonishing than the weather report. Or, considering the annoyed tone she had used, it was more like one of her daily complaints about Chief Bei Fong having the same empathies as a fire hydrant.

This was just another pothole on her path to becoming a successful Avatar, needing to be filled and put behind her. A little nuisance to add to the long list of nusiances and her boyfriend added to the equally long list of people trying to drag her down.

But for Mako...

For Mako it was as if colour had returned to his vision; a trait he didn't realize he had lost until that very moment.

The second she was within arms reach, heading back toward her fur wraps with an arm load of leggings and socks, he had her pulled to his chest in a bone crushing hug. It was his only method of communication since his brain couldn't function well enough to form words.

"Don't...don't you dare..." she said menacingly as she struggled to free herself. "Don't you dare be happy about this!"

In response, Mako released a half chuckle, half sob against her neck and could only press closer as she twisted and writhed and beat against his sides to the point of bruising. Spirits knew, she was the strongest person, let alone woman, he had ever met. But the long weeks of stress and exhaustion and sickness - no, _pregnancy_. Korra was **pregnant**! - had taken their toll, and her beating lost its gusto less than a minute in.

Unable to do much else, soon enough she slumped against him like a lifeless ragdoll, her weight completely supported by his arms. Not much later, the dam of emotions, - including panic, horror and desperation, to name a few - which she had been struggling to hold back since the moment she found out, began to burst at its seams.

Suddenly, she was drowning.

"I-I can't do this," she told him, gripping his waist as fiercely as one would a piece of driftwood after hours of treading water. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I just can't. It's too much."

"You my dear, lovely, strong, selfless Korra," he tenderly brushed a tuft of knotted hair away from her ear, wishing his every word to be received without filter. "You can do anything. Anything you want."

She chuckled then, as if his words were a hilarious little jibe. However, it all too quickly dissolved into whimpers.

"Th-They'll hate me," she stuttered, sounding disconcertingly meek. Mako tucked her head under his chin and tried to rub warmth back into her skin. She was so very cold.

"They already hate you anyway," he whispered back. "Give them time to cool off. They'll get over it."

"They won't."

"They'll have to."

"Mako…I-"

"If it's a girl," he interrupted, unwilling or perhaps unable to even recognize the idea of giving it all up. This – he just now realized – had been his dream all along. This is where he always hoped he'd be at this age had he married a normal woman and had a normal life. It was a fantasy he had given up long ago; the instant he followed a sassy Water Tribe girl out onto the frozen tundra and accepted her into his arms and heart. But still he yearned for it. Oh how he _wanted _it. "If it's a girl, I'd like to name her after my mother. Or-or not. I don't care actually. As long as she's healthy. Or he. Either way, I'll be happy."

"Please…please stop…"

She didn't want to give it names or gender. She didn't want to care. She wanted it to be gone. There was still too much work to be done. This…this would change _everything_. And if there was one thing Avatar Korra feared, it was change. So far in her young life, it had only led to suffering.

She tried, feebly, to push away from his chest. But for the first time ever, she was powerless to his resolve. Maybe he just wanted it more. Or maybe her body cared less about resisting than her still-horrified brain wished to.

Maybe.

He pulled back from her eventually, allowing a couple of inches of much-needed breathing room. Hands rose to cup her cheeks and force those sparkling blue eyes up to meet his. Somehow, within the last minute, she had become one hundred times more beautiful than he had ever dared to see. Pallid complexion, dark under-eyes, tangled hair and all. She was a goddess; having nothing to do with her ability to access the Spirit World and everything to do with being the woman he loved, the woman who carried of piece of that love inside of her and could miraculously give it tangible life.

It was incredible to think of such _power_.

"You should go to the South Pole," Mako managed to say as he ever-so-slowly recovered from shock and logic took rein once again. He began to realize that Korra's reaction wasn't entirely heartless. Had she really found this to be as much of an undesired hassle as implied, she could have taken care of it quietly with a city doctor. She could have merely gone forward with him being none the wiser. Meeting with Katara meant she was hesitating. It meant she was confused as to what she wanted. Along with the Master Water Healer, her parents would also be available for advice.

She didn't necessarily want a solution. She wanted help. She wanted support. Which would indeed be in short supply around here, despite his best efforts.

Within the restrictive space of his palms, he felt her nod. "Yeah. I know, smart-guy" She laughed then, shakily, but still she laughed. Mako could not suppress the wide smile that tugged at his lips at the sound.

"Just...promise to call me. As often as you can."

"…I can't."

The smile faltered. "Oh."

"No. I mean I literally can't. No phones in the South Pole. Remember?"

"Right." Of course, that was probably one of the primary appeals of the place. He let his hands drop with a sigh, struggling against a burning desire to hover and never again have her leave his sight. Korra had always been a target, but now she was an especially _fragile_ target (an adjective he never thought would be attributed to her), and that made him all the more terrified. Add an inability to communicate on top of that and it was a recipe for paranoia. What if Katara didn't manage to make her see clearly? The whole world knows of her tendency to shoot-first and ask-questions-later. What if one night it all comes crashing back down and she's alone and she's exhausted and she decides she can't take it?

What if this breaks them?

With furrowed brows, she saw all these anxieties being showcased through his increasingly fretful expression.

She wanted to reassure him that everything would be okay, but it was a promise she couldn't keep. No matter what, things wouldn't be okay. Not for a long while. She needed time - time alone - to meditate on the messy situation they had inadvertently landed in. At that moment, she was too tired and scared to feel anything but scared and tired.

"I'll be back," was all she could vow at that moment as she returned to her task, laying out her long-unused, cold-weather wardrobe. She packed quickly. Every second she stayed in this city was making it all that much more suffocating.

Mako helped. There was nothing else he could do. Not after she had made up her mind like this. As she began to roll up and secure the pelts, he made sure to scoop up the vitamins she had so carelessly tossed onto the bedspread earlier. They locked eyes as he passed the container over, silently pleading that she take care of herself, that she _give this a chance_ at the very least. She accepted with trembling fingers before burying it into a deep pocket.

It was a promise to try.

Without a word, he followed her downstairs, the creaking of their battered stairs acting as a tuneless requiem. He could hear her trembling breath as they approached the door, her grip on the banister turning her dark knuckles nearly grey. The streets she had once loved to frolic through had since become a blood-stained battlefield to her, and every day it was getting harder and harder to step over the threshold and face it. It seemed unfathomable to bring a child into such a dismal world. It seemed downright cruel.

She wanted to tell him this, wanted to make him understand and not hate her, but the instant she turned around his lips were on hers in the most desperate kiss she had ever experienced.

It was a kiss to sing songs and break hearts. It made bones melt and blood boil. It reminded her of how very dangerous this firebender boy was, and how foolish she had been to get so tangled in his heat.

Every inch of her was _burning_.

When he pulled away, seconds or centuries later, both were breathless.

"Go," he said with a tone that trembled in agony. His eyes were squeezed shut, fists clenched tight enough to draw blood, hovering above her shoulders. "Go now. I-I can't-"

"Yes. I mean, okay." She hitched the roll more securely onto her shoulder and turned back to the door, behind which engines roared like canons, citizens gossiped like vultures and a boat promising blissful quiet lay waiting. She took a deep, staggered breath. "Goodbye Mako."

The door opened. The door closed.

Then there was nothing.

Mako fell to his knees in the middle of their empty, soundless home.

He had the soul-sinking feeling – an indisputable yet illogical conviction - that he would never see Avatar Korra again.

* * *

**Author's Note: **More Makorra. It couldn't be helped. I'm going slightly crazy waiting for book 2, so I needed to vent. This ended up being over 14 pages long so I split it in two even though I outlined it as a "fluffy, one-shot". Oops.

Old readers may have noticed that this is sort of a continuation of "Equilibrium", but not enough to call it an official sequel. Also, I'm getting into the habit of write-doodling (is there a word for that? ... drabble perhaps?) on my Tumblr blog if anyone is interested. I'm easy to look up as "mayonaka no ame".

Hope you enjoyed so far. Please review!


	2. Part II Discovery, Jolt, Unbelievable

"_Surprise is the greatest gift which life can grant us."_

**- Boris Pasternak**

-| **Unexpected **|-

PART II

**V. Discovery **

For the first time in six years, since before her political career took root and subsequently exploded, Avatar Korra was bored.

As in: set fire to the boat just to rouse a little adrenaline _bored_.

She resisted the urge of course. Well, technically she resisted. Perhaps a flame or two were summoned and waved around in her palm. And maybe once or twice the curtains started smoking, but she always stopped before anything got definitively enflamed.

Here, on the third and final day of her journey to the South Pole, logic had become somewhat of an unwelcome guest within the shelter of her mind. It was with such reasoning that she found herself out on the top deck; barely covered in the same thin, linen robe she had left the city in despite the below freezing temperature.

The cold was nice.

It served not only as a reminder that she was moving further and further away from the stifling heat of the city (from _his_ heat) but it also provided a much-appreciated numbness.

The cold distracted her.

It helped her forget.

Oh, how she desired forgetfulness. Like that dumpling cart on the steps of city hall that most likely survived off of her patronage alone, how she hungered for its near-narcotic offerings.

"Miss Kiera?" a voice suddenly invaded from the left. She closed her eyes and sighed at the interruption as well as at her uncreative pseudonym. Avoiding her real name had been as pointless as it was paranoid, seeing as her face had been featured in every newspaper worldwide for nearly a decade straight.

For what was probably the hundredth time, she debated retreating down to storage and making camp among the blessedly mute suitcases and sato-mobiles. It would have been rather poetic to leave the city the exact way she came into it. Alas, her traitorous body would not allow such uncivilized lodgings nowadays. Not in her 'condition'. Not when she felt the need to empty her stomach every few hours and her spine refused to stop throbbing and her head seemed to be making a genuine effort to split itself open.

She was trapped. Trapped and yet still the freest she had felt in a very long time.

"What?" this Kiera barked at her unwelcome company. After all, it was Avatar Korra who worked hard to maintain a reputation for being welcoming and kind and so very, very opinionated. Here on this boat she could openly be the angry, frustrated and inconspicuous woman that she wanted to be.

To her surprise, the person's chosen response was to laugh. It was a high-pitched, feminine giggle that she supposed should be infectious, but Korra had grown immune to such maladies as of late.

"I'm sorry to intrude," she said, sounding not sorry at all. "But I've been watching you." Korra almost snorted. Was anyone ever _not _watching? "And I thought…I thought you might appreciate this."

A small burlap package was thrust into the Avatar's hand before she could refuse. It smelled of jasmine and spice-berries and good dreams. She couldn't help but cringe at its sickening sweetness.

"What is it?"

The woman giggled again, needlessly testing the most-powerful-being-in-the-world's patience. "Oh, just a family-secret, tea concoction. Did wonders for me with the nausea and I was willing to try anything to get over the morning sickness phase. It's dreadful, isn't it? Makes you just wanna give up!" More laughter. Lower and more intimate this time. As if they shared a secret. As if they were _friends_ or something ridiculous like that.

Out of pure shock by this woman's nerve, Korra finally turned, the sachet of tea clenched so tightly in her fist that the seams began to tear. She was fully prepared to clock this stranger right in the jaw offering such a presumptuous gift. How dare she observe and guess and _could tell_?

Korra's arm was already beginning to pull back when an even higher, smaller voice interrupted.

"Mwommy!"

A little boy was clumsily galloping towards them. He could have been no more than three years old, dressed in the same style of ankle-length anorak she used to wear as a child when chasing polar-bearpuppies across the glaciers. Korra could do nothing other than watch, inexplicably petrified, as this strange, tiny human leapt into the woman's arms and flung his short, chubby limbs around her hips and neck. Their matching, bright blue eyes sparkled with glee as he proudly presented a handful of crumpled tissue paper that was probably meant to resemble a flower. That or a wilted cabbage.

"Why thank you Mika!" the woman said as animatedly as if she were accepting a gilded trophy instead of a piece of trash. On second thought; Korra had accepted many awards in her life and had never sounded _that_ excited. "It's beautiful!"

With a giggle, almost exactly as high-pitched and grating as his mother's, the mini-man wormed his way back down to the deck and then scampered off.

Korra's gaze followed him, her lips curled into a curious frown, up until he disappeared around the corner. She was in fact so concentrated on his strangely-timed appearance that it took her a few moments to realize her unsolicited confidante was speaking again.

"Sorry." She pressed two fingers to her temple and forced an exhale. "What did- I, um, didn't catch that."

"I _said_," Her smile beamed so brightly that it was bordering on blinding. "That it's worth it."

"What's worth what?"

"You know… the discomfort and exhaustion and pain and all around labor. It's so very much worth it in the end."

Korra automatically sneered at the notion while taking the opportunity to inspect this brazen stranger. The woman looked to be in about her late-twenties, not much older than Korra herself. Her dusky skin was plump and soft, her thick hair braided with blue ribbon into two long tails, peeking out from beneath her a fur-lined hood. She was the perfect image of a traditional water-tribe lady. Everything about her was in complete contrast to the Avatar. What with her sharp, muscular lines, sallow complexion and men's-style wolf tails.

Korra was a warrior. She would always _be_ a warrior.

It was she was made to be - _born_ to be. All she had worked for her entire life. That and nothing else.

"Thanks," she eventually muttered, holding up the tea package with a strained smirk. "I- uh – I'll see you around. I guess."

The woman bowed in goodbye. It was definitely much too formal for a fellow ship-deck guest, but she tried not to read that much into it.

"You're welcome miss…Kiera." With a knowing smile, she followed the exit path her son had taken, but not before calling "Good luck!" over her shoulder.

For the first time since this voyage began, Korra shivered.

Wrapping her robe more tightly around herself, she slunk back to her cabin with the intention of spending the rest of the ride out of sight. What hours remained were squandered lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about the exchange and what it may imply for her situation. She had hoped that she could pretend for a while longer than nothing had changed; that no one could tell and she could buy some precious weeks or months to figure things out. That or avoid it completely.

Rather foolishly, she had bolted out of the doctor's office as if she were on unbendable fire as soon as she heard (and made him thrice repeat) the dire diagnosis. In her mind, the horror had begun that instant. The bomb had been built and triggered on that cold, metal table in that obscenely bright examination room; a nine month countdown to ruin.

Apparently this was not the case. Well, of course it wasn't.

Korra groaned and threw her arms up over her head as she forced herself to finally do the math. If only for strategy's sake.

Two months was the most likely time frame. Maybe three. It was long enough to start showing signs. Probably. At least, it would have been for someone who took proper care of themselves.

Another harsh truth hit her when she realized this horrendous event was entirely her own doing. She had missed - thrice missed actually - the quarter-annual appointment set up to avoid such consequences. The first time there was a visiting dignitary who yammered for two hours longer than he was expected to. On another occasion, the trolley union representatives had insisted on immediate mediation or they would strike. From then on she just plain forgot. It was actually a miracle that this hadn't happened sooner.

Korra slapped both palms to her eye sockets and pressed.

Stupid.

Stupid. _Stupid_. **Stupid**_. _

Mako must have instantly known. He hadn't said anything when she accused him of forcing this upon them to get her to fit some wifely stereotype. Of course he didn't. He hadn't wanted to upset her further. Mako was…

He had always been so…

"Nope!" Korra said aloud to no one and nothing other than her rebellious brain. One of the first and only decisions she had made was not to include him decisions. Guilt and pity were not good enough reasons to go through with this. Whether she charged ahead or weakly bowed out, it had to be _her_ with the final say. She would never be able to look at herself again otherwise. Not that she'd looked at herself, really looked at herself, in a long while.

She wondered how that water-tribe woman could tell…

Korra's eyes pressed closed as she contemplated the question.

Slowly and gently, as if caressing a slumbering tiger-shark, she forced her hands to venture southward. She certainly didn't feel like she possessed any of the typical qualities attributed to expecting women. Her waxy skin didn't 'glow', her hair was a mangy rat's nest, her nails chipped and dirt crusted. She never flashed a 'secret smile'. She never unconsciously touched her stomach just to confirm that everything was alright. In fact, she had been stubbornly avoiding that area entirely, not wanting to give the root of all this insanity the satisfaction of her notice. Today though, there was no longer any choice.

Calloused fingertips explored the sharp lines of her collar bone before moving on over her breasts. They had always had a respectable stoutness but now they seemed firmer and flat. She cringed at the evidence that she had indeed lost a lot of her healthy thickness, as everyone had been telling her for years, most likely due to stress. But that didn't matter now.

Her hands continued their charting quest, flitting over linen-covered, oddly sensitive nipples, a gloriously still-flat upper abdomen before, finally, they stumbled upon something…different.

Korra's eyes shot open.

She took concentrated breath, hoping it would inspire calm, but it only seemed to give extra vigor to her shaking hands. If the nausea, pain and blatant verdict of professional were not all proof enough; this would be the final piece of damming evidence.

This would make it _real_.

As if by their own will, her fingers began to climb. Their stunned owner seemed unable to do anything more than stare, unblinking, at the ceiling tiles.

The incline began just beneath her belly button. It was far from steep. Just a tiny, hard hill of no more than twenty degrees or so, slanting for only a couple of inches before abruptly curving down into nothing. Korra released a breathy laugh of both wonder and relief.

It was there, yes, but it wasn't at all obvious. Not yet. That woman probably just had some bizarre power of intuition. She still had time. Maybe she wasn't even close to as far along as suspected.

There was still plenty of opportunity to-

A sudden horn blast had Korra nearly jumping out of her skin as well as a high-pitched yelp to escape her throat. There was no time to feel embarrassed, as the sound had invoked an entirely new set of emotions.

Land was within sight!

With eagerness that she hadn't felt in years, Korra leapt from the bed and rushed to gather her meager stock of belongings. As soon as her roll was secure, still dressed in nothing but a linen robe, she ripped open the door to her cabin and embraced the frigid wind as it smacked her candidly in the face.

It smelled like snow. And freedom. And _home_.

As the sparkling, white mountain-tops began to peak out from the fog, Korra knew. She knew, without a doubt, that this place would hold the answer.

It was here and here alone that she'd finally find the peace she so craved. It was here that everything would turn out fine.

**VI. Jolt**

"He's fine."

"He is most definitely _not_fine. In fact, if I had a dictionary and we looked up the word 'not fine' in it, we'd find an exact picture of that man in that room in that state!"

"_Not fine_ is two words, Asami."

"You know what I meant."

Mako sighed into the pillows, wondering why they bothered straining themselves with whispers. The walls were pretty much made of paper and they hadn't even bothered to move beyond the door.

It was silly. Really.

"No offense, but he's _my_ brother. Just give him another day or two and he'll snap right out of it. He doesn't wanna talk and we gotta respect that."

"We gave him two whole weeks and he hasn't moved. I'd say the time for mollycoddling is over."

"He's _fine_."

"He's _dying_! Can't you tell?"

Mako could practically hear Bolin rolling his eyes. He wanted to laugh at the image, but couldn't find the energy to bother.

"He's stronger than you think."

"He's weaker than you hope. Especially when it comes to her."

"I'm telling you; _he's fine!"_

"This is ridiculous. **Mako**!" The door slid open before his brother could do anything to stop it. Mako blinked away the pain as the first rays of sunlight he'd seen in days speared into his and Korra's bedroom.

Correction: his bedroom.

At the very thought, he had pool what little remained of his strength to pull the wrinkled comforted up over his head.

He wasn't crying. In fact, he hadn't cried at all. Not this entire time. It was the one thing he could take solace in; that he somehow managed to maintain his precious 'cool-under-fire' reputation. But that didn't mean he didn't want to. It didn't mean that his face didn't pinch and his eyes didn't burn and he could barely find it in himself to keep breathing every time she barged through his thoughts.

"I'm fine," he muttered into the fabric as he felt the mattress dip with Asami's weight.

"See!" The earthbender was gesturing to his brother's stagnant form with enthusiastically open palms, as if he were the textbook display of mental health. "What did I tell ya? Fine."

"Shut up Bolin." There was a hesitant hand on his shoulder then. It was light and cautious, as if afraid he may shatter should she touch too intimately. "When was the last time you ate anything, sweetie?"

Mako didn't respond. He couldn't remember anyhow.

"Give me _some_ credit, Asami. I've been bringing him snacks and water and stuff."

"You mean those snacks?"

He assumed she was pointing to the towers of untouched finger food and take-out cartons that lined the shadowed, right-side of the bed. Again, he wanted to laugh at what he imagined his brother's dumfounded expression looked like. But he didn't.

"Okay. That's it. Come on sleepy head." Lithe but deceptively strong arms wormed their way under and around his right shoulder before beginning to pull. "I'm not gonna let this of all things be the death of you. I'd lose a bet that it'd be that shoddy motorcycle of yours. Bolin, for the love of the Spirits, HELP ME_._"

Bolin had retreated into a corner by that point, nervously bouncing the tips of his fingers off each other as his thick brows drew together. It was beyond disturbing for him to see his big brother - the ever-so-logical, level-headed, smartest man he knew, the man he had always looked up to – looking as well as acting this pitiable. It was like seeing a platypus-bear playing a game of croquet; downright stupefying.

Asami, after realizing that there were not one but two benders in denial occupying this space, sighed before adjusting her grip onto both of Mako's shoulder. He groaned as he was yanked into a sitting position and all the blood sloshed around in his head. Despite not having anything in his stomach, he felt sick. He felt weak and broken and empty yet too full. He tried to voice this but nothing other than a wince came out.

"Yes. I know. I know it hurts and you're tired and you feel like nothing will ever make you happy again." As she spoke she made quick work of brushing the dirt from his stubbled jaw, straightening his stained tank top and raking back his greasy, black hair, hoping to make him look somewhat normal for the sake of his younger sibling more than anyone. "I know this because it's what I felt after you left me. And I know you'll get through it because I did. And I know it'll get better, perhaps even better than it was before, because it did for me. Okay?"

He didn't answer. Mainly because his eyes were burning again. As much as he wanted to argue about their situations being entirely different, that their friendship with minor benefits had been nothing close to his and Korra's passion, it would have only led to tears. Perhaps on both their parts. He really didn't want today to be the day he cried. Especially in front of an already freaked-out Bolin. What kind of street-rat, orphan, probably-unemployed-by-now idiot cried just because his pregnant girlfriend abandoned him? Such a luckless man didn't have the luxury of being so damn emotional_. _

"Mako." The mattress moved again as another body lowered onto it. Despite the firebender's closed eyes, he could sense the warmth of Bolin's fingers hovering over him; wanting to heal, to return the favor of magically making the world seem brighter as Mako had done for him throughout their entire lives. After countless scrapped knees, frost-bitten fingers and broken hearts, he had always been there with a warm hug or a joke or an order of his favorite dumplings purchased with the very last of the copper coins hidden within the seams of his coat. Comforting Mako was so very difficult because he had always, _always _been the provider of comfort. And he did it with such genuine selflessness, finding happiness in seeing those he loved being happy. Even in getting engaged to a walking, talking disaster like Korra, he willingly and gladly sealed his fate as a permanent care-taker.

Bolin had never had to practice such generosity. He didn't know how to love someone so unconditionally that you would give up everything just to see them safe and content. Even if they hated you for it. Even if it broke you.

He may have never had to be the big-brother before. But by golly, today he was gonna try.

"You gotta get up bro," he said without a hint of humor in his voice as his palm, at long last, landed on Mako's shoulder. "Asami is going to start a bath for you. In five minutes you're gonna be in said bath." At the instruction, the heiress immediately stood up and darted down the hall, leaving the two siblings alone. "Even if I have to pick you up myself, dunk you in there and hold you under. Then we're gonna eat some soup. And I'm gonna watch you this time. Till the very last drop. I'm not above using a turkey baster to get some nutrients in ya if needed, so mentally prepare yourself for that awkwardness should you choose not to cooperate."

Mako scoffed. Like his runty little brother could force him to do anything he didn't want to. "Bolin, just leave me alo-"

"No!" Two, shockingly forceful hands gripped him tight enough to bruise. Then his "runty" baby brother began to shake him. He was shaking him like he was a candy machine with a dangling prize stuck on the tip of a coil. Though it made Mako's head feel like it was about to fall off and his teeth clinked together painfully, it also forced him to finally open his eyes.

There he was welcomed back to reality by two wide, emerald irises; an exact copy of their mother's, shining with tears that obviously never had any intention hiding or holding back. Bolin had never been shy to crying when he needed to. Mako had always been jealous of that ability. "You are going to get through this. You're going to get through this because _I_ need you to. I need you, okay? So please just…_move_! And-and eat something…I'm begging you. I-I can't take you like this. Please."

Exhausted by the outburst, his head fell against his brother's chest and stayed there. The elder could do nothing more but feel his shattered heart clench as the second most important person in the world to him dissolved into a trembling, sobbing mess.

Looking up, he observed his other friend leaning against the doorframe with a wash cloth in hand. Her expression was also pleading; her quivering lower lip a testament to how miserable this tableau must appear.

Mako sighed into his baby brother's unruly curls, forcing one arm to lift and weakly pat him on the back.

"Fine."

It was a single, raspy word and it was all he could offer at that moment.

It was enough.

Bolin's arms wrapped around him and Asami gasped in ecstatic surprise.

Ever so slowly, the healing began.

**VI. Unbelievable **

Korra hadn't even been in the room for a full minute when Katara's smile developed a knowing glint. As her parents exchanged pleasantries with some of the other healers, her eyes were automatically drawn and locked to her Sifu's.

Korra raised an enquiring brow.

The elder's chin dipped low to her chest.

The Avatar raised then dropped her open palms.

Katara had the audacity to wink.

She rolled her eyes.

There were just some expressions that eighty-year-olds should no longer be allowed to use.

Eventually, she let her shoulders drop in defeat. There was no point in playing dumb. This woman was famed not only as Avatar Aang's wife but for being able to diagnose maladies, even dormant ones, sometimes just by looking at a picture of a patient. It was uncanny, really. Uncanny and incredibly irritating.

Without a word of warning or greeting to any of the mingling villagers, Korra marched forward and followed her Water Bender Master into the private back room. The door was slid shut behind them and locked with a finalizing click. Almost magically, the twittering voices in the entrance were cut off into an eerie silence.

All of a sudden, they were very much alone.

"So my dear," Katara shuffled her way to a nearby chair, dragging it out and exhaling with obvious relief as she settled in. The teasing smile remained in perfect place. "I assume you have some questions."

"Yeah." She sure as hell didn't travel all this way here in the middle of such political turmoil just to chat about the weather. She rocked back and forth on her heels as she debated how to de-crass her phrasing. "How the- _How_ did this happen?"

The smile vibrated, obviously struggling not to burst into chuckles. "I believe you know very well, young lady, how it happened. I can explain in more technical terms if you'd like?"

"No!" Something else to be added to the list of what eighty year olds should not be allowed to do. "No. Most definitely no."

"Then I believe you have your answer. Anything else?"

Korra sighed, already exasperated. They both knew the real question she wanted answered was _why _did this happen? How could such a thing happen to _the Avatar_? How could this happen _now_?They also both knew that there wasn't and would never be a satisfactory response. Realizing this - accepting this - Korra felt as if she had already surpassed a particularly tall hurdle.

It was relieving. A little bit at least. However, she was also all too aware that this was only the first in a lineup of trials that stretched up over mountains and into the horizon.

Onto hurdle two: "Can you tell me how far along I am?"

Katara nodded. "Of course. That is, if you let me examine you as well as answer a few questions."

This was the part she had both expected and dreaded.

"Fine. Yes." She quickly shrugged out of her coat, hoping that speed would reduce the chances of fear getting the best of her. "Let's get this over with."

"Very well. Lie down over here please."

The interrogation was standard. The examination…uncomfortable. Even with Katara's famed gentleness. Still, a familiar, trusted and friendly face was one million times more calming than her proficient yet cold city physician. Though said product still equaled a meager amount.

Ever since she had come barreling down the gangplank at port last week, she had been so very eager to visit Katara but equally desperate to keep her parents in the dark and bask in a few blissful days of normalcy. It irked her to no end that any wisp of relaxation continued to be out of reach throughout her visit. Upon arriving at her childhood home, quickly being swept up into furry-armed hugs and having all her favorite meals prepared (not that she could eat more than a few bites of anything), it was starting to become painfully obvious that she no longer belonged in the Southern Water Tribe. Over the last near-decade she had grown accustomed to the city's pampered lifestyle; such as not having to chase and kill your food or trip over dirty roots in the middle of the living room floor.

She didn't belong here. But she didn't want to belong to Republic City either with its noisy, tree-less streets and widening class divisions. With all the pleasantries and security of the world available to her, she still felt homeless. She hated herself for that.

Not once in a whole week had anyone dared to mention Mako. She was grateful. Her showing up unannounced could only be for a handful of reasons and everyone had most likely came to the conclusion that it involved her relationship. Her parents had probably seen it coming long in advance, what with the way she constantly snapped at him during their last visit and had avoided making any final decisions on the wedding. The breakup was inevitable in their minds.

_This_ however…

Korra took a deep breath as cold fingers investigated her, trying to distract herself from the desolation and discomfort.

It was only a few hours into her visit that she realized Tonraq and Senna, loving and supportive though they were, would never understand. They wouldn't be able to comprehend that this would mean the end of her role as the Avatar. She'd have to watch, powerless and preoccupied, as the worldwide dream of equality, peace and prosperity crumbled to dust between her fingers.

She shivered at the thought as well as at Katara's thick-skinned hands roaming over her stomach to explore the tell-tale bump. The older woman paused then. She clicked her tongue a few times before pressing two, open palms fully against it. A few seconds passed and she moved her hands again, as if hoping to get a better angle. Finally, as her fingers relieved the pressure, an unavoidable whimper escaped her lips.

"What?" Korra couldn't help but ask, the noise having somehow made her heartbeat increase threefold. She sat up onto her elbows, trying to catch the Master healer's eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Katara was shaking her head. "He's very weak," she answered sullenly as her palm caressed the curve of her belly, trying to comfort the being inside. "There's a heartbeat, but it's much slower and quieter than it should be for four months. He's…weary."

"F-Four? Did you say…geez, four." Out of shock more than anything, Korra's arms yielded their support and she fell onto her back, once again staring skyward as had become her habit whenever things got too heavy. It was hard not to focus on the fact that her child had been pronounced male - an assumption that Katara had never gotten wrong for any of the infants born to the village – and instead on the revelation that she was much further along than expected and what awfulness that could imply.

"What's it got to be weary of? It doesn't know what's going on."

"That's not true." Her tone was uncharacteristically harsh. "And what he's weary of is fighting you. Weary of living in such a hostile environment."

"O-Oh." Her voice sounded meek and foreign to her own ears. "So…what now?"

"You either choose to support him with the trying task of developing or we give him to the Spirits. It is a kinder fate."

This was it. Out loud at last, she was being offered the way out she had been striving for, the very reason she came here. She knew that Katara wouldn't judge; knew that she would suggest only what was best for everyone involved, including her son.

Holy Spirits, a _son_…

A little boy with mocha skin, brown hair so dark it neared black and glowing, amber eyes.

... He would have liked that.

She forced herself to swallow the lump blocking her throat but there was no stopping the liquid beginning to build up and blur her vision. Water had always been her native, most trusted element. But today - today it was her downfall.

Her gaze remained glued to the cedar ceiling planks, expression set into a determined scowl even as the shimmering pools of her eyes flooded and sought refuge down her cheeks. She was trying not to envision it, but it was impossible. She saw the man she had once considered her anchor, her reason for getting up in the morning on days when the crushing weight of her destiny left her paralyzed, smiling with pure delight as she told him the news. The way it could have been.

The way it would never be. It couldn't.

"You…you must be so disappointed in me."

Katara was smiling, though it no longer contained an ounce of teasing or mirth. "No. No my dear, sweet girl," she whispered while reaching to brush a few errant strands of hair from her forehead. "Never. Surprised, yes. But never, _ever_ disappointed. You have a responsibility to the world. Being with that boy, having this child and accepting happiness regardless of how it affected the people, why, that would be a completely selfish act. Such a thing is against your very nature. I understand."

Korra nodded. It was true. Everything the wizened woman said was frustratingly, heart-breakingly true.

"It's what I have to do. I've always known. Since the moment I found out."

"I'm sure you have."

"Katara." Blindly, she reached out and sought her Sifu with a fiercely trembling hand. The elder quickly snatched the flailing limb out of the air and held it to her heart, feeling her chest contract painfully at seeing this valiant, young woman so torn. "Katara I'm...I'm _scared_."

"I know dear. I'll be here the whole time. I promise."

Korra nodded through yet another deep, staggered breath, for the first time using those calming exercises Tenzin so adamantly imposed upon her during training. She doubted he ever considered it would be used in this type of situation. But now, today and for possibly many days in the future, she knew they would have a purpose at last.

After all, if anyone needed to practice their breathing, it a young, unmarried Avatar who just decided – against all reason - that she was going to be having a baby.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, to no one's surprise, I did it again. A one-shot that turned into a three-parter because I just have to ramble and stretch out emotional drama. Oops. Twas so very tempting to end this one of a sad cliff-hanger, but I though it may spur too high a percentage of angered reviews out of the few that I get. Part III coming soon. Please leave feedback if you enjoyed what you read today. They sincerely make my day. Thank you.


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